pack it up, val!

“Pack it up Val.”

That one box. That one box that we never saw again – after it was packed up in Clovis, NM – almost a couple years ago now.

The contents of this box is still indefinitely undetermined. However, when we realize that there is something that we once had, that we no longer have anymore, Rob jokingly tells me “Pack it up Val!” He jokes with me because it pretty much nutshells my personality. And it pretty much contradicts his personality along with his upbringing. The day we had movers in Clovis, I kept jokingly saying to one mover, “Pack it up, Val” when asked what to do with certain things, in an attempt to just get it all out of my hair. Even after we got married, and my dad was helping us move my stuff, he was seizing the moment to get rid of his own ‘crap’. I love the differences of both sides of our family. I truly think they compliment very well, as long as we can find balance.

Rob grew up in a family with a lot of tradition – and with that comes a lot of nostalgia. I grew up in a family where I am the only child and my mom moved away from the Philippines with only her suitcase, leaving many memories behind. My dad is the only child, although he has one adopted brother and on half brother. The main difference between the Taylor family and the Brooks family I think is that we keep the memories in a different way. It seems the Brooks keep them in boxes along with their hearts, but the Taylors keep them in their heart mostly. And the physical memories they just want to get rid of! J And I am almost never surprised when we visit the Brooks’ in SC and Liz is trying to get me to take Rob’s stuffed animals home with us! The funny thing is that no one wants to be the person to throw it away….so the stuffed animals stay, and Liz waits until we visit again. J Because it is Rob and me that have to live with each others’ differences, we come to a meeting point most times. But sometimes they have come at a price of a minor argument here and there.

With all that being said….I love having two families because it reminds me that both, “roots” and “wings” are equally important. And without the nostalgia, you can forget where you came from.

I am including a few pictures from Rob’s files (the kind that doesn’t take up boxes in the attic! J), because they are such neat reminders of roots. It is so neat to be able to see legacies being created, and from that I feel the strong joy of having children.

These are photos of Rob’s maternal grandmother, who was a pilot instructor. She was given a grant from the GI Bill that allowed women to learn to fly! How very memorable and pivotal. We enjoy Rob’s Gram very much when we go to visit my in-laws. And a good number of Rob’s relatives reside on the same golf course, so hitting many birds with one stone is an advantage. Especially for the “No-hassle-keep-it-simple-pack-it-up-Val” kind of person! J wink, wink. One Brooks’ tradition I have grown to love, is to continue waving out the window until the house and its’ occupants are no longer in view. Since I love to tease Rob about this, I will not ever admit that I feel fondness when performing this ritual! (hey, he’s welcome to have a read on “our” blog! J.)




Oh, and in case you’re wondering what was in that “pack it up, Val” box: we are missing grilling utensils, a good number of large cooking utensils, those nifty George Foreman grease trays, a couple etched glass cubes that sit on a lighted pedestal to illuminate the picture in it.